


The Stranger

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alive Regulus Black, F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Written in 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house was in ruins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally Posted: May 24, 2006_

The house was in ruins. Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected, but she knew it wasn’t this. The roof was fallen in and the door was hanging from its hinges. The window panes were nothing but broken glass save for one on the north side that she saw when she first approached the dwelling. It was dark and there was a stench in the air that she couldn’t identify, but still made her eyes water and her tummy roll.   
  
Anyone who found this place wouldn’t venture further than the front path. The smell, the appearance, and the feeling that something was just not right would send them back to somewhere safer. Hermione, however, doesn’t retreat. All of her research has led her here, to this abandoned house outside Winchester, and she won’t leave until she found what she’s looking for or knew that it wasn’t there after all.   
  
Harry and Ron knew that she was in Winchester, but they had no idea that she thought she’d located one of the horcruxes. They’d refuse to let her come alone and one of them would probably foolishly attempt to destroy it and end up dead. She couldn’t take that risk. She’s not one to reach first and think later so it’s obviously the best choice for her to come alone.   
  
She didn’t lie to them, of course, but she also didn’t specify what her research results actually were when she told them she had to come here to find something referenced in the books she’d found. When they assumed it was another text, which she’d been collecting from all over Britain since they began their quest, she just didn’t bother to correct them. It was better this way, she knew. There wasn’t a lot of information available on horcruxes in any of the books she had found, but she had managed to find out enough to hopefully avoid endangering herself, so she was reasonably safe.   
  
Of course, there were no plans to destroy it if she did find it. She might be brave but she wasn’t stupid. She had a suspicion that Dumbledore’s death had simply been hastened by the curse from Snape that night last year. From everything Harry had told her and what she’d learned since, she thought Dumbledore knew he was dying and had made that choice in order to destroy one of the horcruxes. If it came to that, she would follow his example. Her death, after all, would be justified if it helped Harry save the world. However, she really didn’t want it to come that. Therefore, she planned to locate the horcrux, if possible, and then figure out a way to destroy it without trading a life to do so. If not, she’d find a solution of some sort.   
  
There was a time when she’d have been horrified that her thoughts regarding its destruction involved ideas of how to capture a Death Eater and have them destroy the horcrux, either by subtle manipulation or even Imperio. She was ashamed that she could even think such thoughts, but her perspective had started to change after they began their quest. It was war, and there was death everywhere. She’d not had to kill anyone yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she was forced to choose her life over that of someone else, possibly even a former schoolmate or parent of someone she knew. When it came down to that struggle, she knew she’d do whatever it took to stay alive.   
  
The horcrux was different, though, as she honestly didn’t think she could ever suggest or attempt any of the plans she could think up for someone else to destroy it. Such actions would make her no better than the people they were fighting, she knew, which is why she refused to allow herself to consider such possibilities. In the future, if things got really bad, then the sacrifice of her humanity might be necessary but, until that day came, if ever, she would do what she could to figure out a way to destroy them without anyone dying.   
  
That was enough time wasted on thoughts, she decided as she walked to the house. The steps leading up to the porch were rotted. She carefully made her way up them, but her foot broke through the wood of one. She stumbled forward and bit her lip when her knees hit the stairs and her leg scraped against the wood as her foot slid through the hole. She was wearing jeans, thankfully, but it still hurt and she knew she’d have scrapes to clean up after. After a slight struggle to get her leg out of the hole, she managed to pull it free, ripping her trousers in the process. She used her wand for light to look at the bloody scrape.   
  
Before she stood up, she said a quick cleansing charm on the wound so it wouldn’t get infected. From the state of this place, she didn’t want to take the risk. Once that was done, she got to her feet and walked up the rest of the stairs by balancing on the ends instead of putting her foot in the middle of the step. The porch didn’t look as if it was in as poor condition as the stairs, but she was hesitant to try it. She couldn’t think of any charms off the top of her head to help, though, so she squared her shoulders and walked across the porch to the broken front door.   
  
Hermione was relieved to make it into the house without any further incidents. The stench was worse as she ducked beneath the crooked door and went inside. It was too dark to see anything beyond the glow of her wand, but the interior didn’t look as bad as she’d expected. She focused on her task and began to walk through the rooms. She was looking for the handheld mirror that had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, the item they’d decided was one of the unknown horcruxes.   
  
It seemed odd that the mirror might be in this out of the way place, especially when none of her research had told of Voldemort ever being in this area, but she was convinced that the notes she’d found were accurate. There was nothing in the front two rooms, which was frustrating and disappointing, but Hermione just made her way through the debris to the back of the house. When she reached the room that had the only solid window, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t like the rest of the house.   
  
There was a chair, a sofa with a warm blanket on it, and a small table. The most startling thing was the fire that was burning low in the fireplace and the teacup that looked half full as it sat beside a plate of half eaten sausage. She tightened her grip on her wand as she scanned the room for anyone who might be hiding but the room was empty. She slowly made her way forward and began her search. It was an abandoned house out of the way from any neighbors so she imagined some homeless person must have found it.   
  
He or she had probably heard her arrival and taken off for fear of getting caught, she decided as she scanned the bookshelf. There were magical texts, some of which she’d never seen, and Hermione couldn’t resist looking at a few whose titles she’d come across in her research but found impossible to locate. Would it be stealing to borrow the texts from an abandoned house that had no known owner? They could prove useful in their quest, but she was hesitant to just take them. She made a face as she realized she’d just been considering using Imperio to force a Death Eater to destroy a horcrux but was timid at taking a book that didn’t belong to anyone anymore.   
  
She’d worry about the books after her search, she decided. Right now, she needed to concentrate on finding that mirror. She was convinced now, more than ever, that it must be here somewhere. She looked through the cabinets and underneath everything, but only found dust and dirt. It would have been so easy to just accio the blood thing to her, but she didn’t dare touch it without knowing what magic it contained or how to destroy it. There was no risk of missing it because she was leaving no place in this house unturned, even if it meant staying all night and searching tomorrow with sunlight to help.   
  
After she looked everywhere she could think of, she stood in the room and scanned it carefully for anywhere she might have missed. The top of the bookcase was too high for her to reach so she pushed the chair beside it and stood on it to look. There was nothing but cobwebs, which confirmed it was a good idea to not let Ron come with her. As she stepped off the chair, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.   
  
There was a silhouette above the fire, a shadow in the shape of a tall man that seemed to be getting bigger. When she heard a floorboard creak, Hermione whirled around with her wand raised, ready to defend herself if necessary. She stared at the man who was looking at her. He was in desperate need of a bath, a shave, and a haircut. He wasn’t dirty, really, but his long black hair hung around his face and he had a thick beard that covered the lower half of his face. She was surprised to see that his lips were curved into what was definitely an amused smirk, which wasn’t at all what she’d expect when someone had a wand pointed at him.   
  
“You’re not one of his so what are you doing here?”   
  
The man’s voice was low, husky, and sounded as if he didn’t get a lot of use out of it. She tightened her grip on her wand and faced him bravely, which only seemed to entertain him. He smiled as he stepped closer, moving with an effortless grace that seemed somehow out of place. “Who are you?”   
  
“You’re the one who broke into my home, little miss. Who are you?”   
  
“I didn’t break in,” she denied as she frowned. “The door was open.”   
  
“You’re looking for something,” he mused as he kept walking towards her. “I wonder---”   
  
“One of whose?” she interrupted as she realized what he’d originally said.   
  
His eyes, a deep shade of blue that she couldn’t quite look away from, narrowed slightly. “Who are you, little girl?” he asked in a low, rough voice.   
  
“I’m eighteen. I’m not a little girl,” she snapped sharply, annoyed at being dismissed as some child, especially by some dirty bearded wild man who lived in an abandoned house.   
  
She was shocked when he moved so quickly that she didn’t have time to react. She found herself pressed against the wall beside the fireplace with his leg between hers, his hand around her throat, and his other hand around her wrist. He smirked as he pressed against her in a way that was entirely inappropriate. “I can see that,” he murmured as he deliberately looked at her chest and moved closer. His eyes met hers and he looked dangerous in ways she didn’t quite understand. “Who are you?”   
  
“Hermione Granger,” she said as she struggled to get her arm free. He might look skinny and frail, but he was strong and wasn’t moving despite all her efforts. She finally resorted to trying to bring the leg that was between his up, but he released her throat and caught hold of her thigh before she could.   
  
“Little wildcat, aren’t you, Hermione Granger?” he asked with a hint of that smug amusement that she already found infuriating. He leaned forward, the hair on his jaw scratching her face as it rubbed her skin. His breath was warm on her ear and she shuddered as she wiggled against him, refusing to let him think he’d won. “What are you looking for?”   
  
“Let me go,” she demanded as she tried to turn her hand to focus her wand on his back. His grip around her wrist tightened and she whimpered when he forced her arm back.   
  
“Answer my question,” he murmured right before his lips brushed against her neck.   
  
Hermione squeaked and felt her face flush as this stranger kissed her neck and held her firmly in such an intimate way. “Stop that,” she whispered even as her head tilted to the side and her wiggling became torn between trying to get free and trying to feel more of him. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was doing and she moaned when his hand moved up from her thigh and around behind her to grip her arse.   
  
“Tell me what you’re looking for, my stubborn little wildcat,” he urged in that low raspy voice that made her body prickle with an awareness that confused her. His teeth nibbled on her ear, and she tried to focus on getting free before she willingly did something really, really bad.   
  
“I’m not your anything,” she muttered before she leaned forward and bit his neck. His hips thrust forward and he groaned against her neck, his reaction far different than she’d expected. Before she had time to think, he released her wrist and his fingers tangled in her hair. He drew her head back and then kissed her, hard and rough and so many other things she’d never imagined a kiss could be like.   
  
He suddenly released her mouth and stepped away quickly, staring at her as he panted and ran his hand through his long hair. “I didn’t intend for it to go that far,” he murmured in an apologetic tone.   
  
“I didn’t stop you,” she whispered as she felt her face become even warmer as she rubbed her bruised wrist. “I’ll go now. It’s obvious that I won’t find what I’m looking for here.”   
  
She took a few steps away before his voice stopped her. “You’re here for the mirror, aren’t you?”   
  
“What do you know about that?” she asked as she faced him. He’d not reacted to having a wand pointed at him, as she’d expect any wizard to, so she’d assumed he was a Muggle.   
  
“Quite a lot, actually,” he drawled as his gaze moved over her lazily, lingering on the cut on her leg and then in far more inappropriate places that had her flushed and confused and far more aware of him than she should have been. “After all, I’m the one who hid it.”   
  
“You---but---“ All thoughts of his long fingers, beautiful eyes, and whether he’d be as handsome without that messy hair and untrimmed beard as she thought left her mind as she stared at him.   
  
“You’re not one of his, are you? So why do you want it?” he asked bluntly.   
  
“If you mean one of Voldemort’s,” she clarified, pleased when he merely arched a brow at her use of the full name instead of flinching like so many, “no, I’m not. I need to find it to help destroy him.”   
  
“You think you can destroy him? You’re just a kid,” he said as he shook his head. “It’s not that easy. Trust me, I know.”   
  
“No, it’s not easy, but my friends and I are going to do it or die trying,” she told him sincerely. “And I’m not a kid. I haven’t been a kid since I started Hogwarts and became best friends with Harry Potter.”   
  
“Potter?” He looked at her for a moment before he nodded once. “I see now. I’d heard but wasn’t sure---you really think that you and your friends are going to defeat Riddle?”   
  
He knew Voldemort’s real name. Hermione tried to conceal her surprise over that but wasn’t very good at not showing her emotions. Instead, she shrugged. “We’re going to do our best.”   
  
“Not easy, is it?” he asked quietly before he blinked and looked away. He scowled as he stared at the floor before he walked to the fireplace.   
  
She watched him kneel down and lean over the fire to reach up into the chimney. When he pulled back, he was holding a bundle wrapped in thick dragonhide. He glanced up and she shivered as she realized that he seemed familiar with the flames casting light on his face.   
  
He stood and walked to her before he nodded at the bundle. “This is what you’re looking for. Do you know how to destroy it yet?”   
  
“Not yet,” she admitted as she looked at his hands and the wrapped up mirror that would help them get one step closer to defeating Voldemort. “I’ll find out, though. It’s what I do.”   
  
“Have you found the others?” he asked as he kept hold of the bundle even when she hesitantly reached for it.   
  
“Not all of them. We’re searching,” she explained. “We have to find them so Harry will have a better chance at winning.”   
  
“Been awhile since I’ve seen anyone that can be so optimistic in the face of such horrible odds,” he murmured as he stared at her. He leaned forward and kissed her again, but this time it wasn’t as unexpected. Hermione parted her lips and kissed him back before she could stop herself, reaching up to touch his hair as the kiss deepened. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “I think I’ve been hiding long enough, Hermione Granger.”   
  
“You have?” She wasn’t sure what he’d been hiding from or why he’d been living in a house that was falling apart, but she assumed he had his reasons. He knew Voldemort’s real name, knew about horcruxes, and he didn’t flinch when he held the wrapped up mirror.   
  
“Yes, I have,” he said as he stepped away. He motioned to the bookshelf. “Why don’t you get all the books that you were drooling over together why I get my stuff packed? I don’t have much so it won’t take long. Books are mine so take whatever you think we’ll need.”   
  
“Wait. We?” She looked at him and wondered how things had gone from rough kisses to book gathering and we.   
  
“You need me, Hermione Granger,” he informed her with a smug smile. “I know how to destroy this thing and can help you and your friends find the others. It’s time for me to stop running and finally do something worthwhile, I suppose. I’m not a hero nor do I plan to die, but Riddle needs to be stopped and you and your friends need the help.”   
  
She really didn’t think Harry and Ron would agree with him, though they may be more accepting if he did actually know how to find the others and destroy them. He was arrogant, smug, and haughty, none of which were traits her friends would admire. His knowledge might outweigh his attitude, though, so she guessed it wouldn’t hurt to let him come with her.   
  
She’d not take him to Harry and Ron, just in case she was wrong about his intentions, but he could wait while she spoke to them. They really could use a little help, after all. The fact that his kisses were rough and passionate and that he looked at her in a way no one else really had had nothing at all to do with anything. God, when had she started lying to herself?   
  
After pushing those thoughts from her mind, she got a stack of books and shrunk them before she put them into her backpack. When she faced him again, she studied him as he stood by the door already packed and waiting for her. It looked like she had found what she’d been looking for, after all, and even something she hadn’t realized she wanted. As she looked at him, she was again struck by that vague familiarity, especially when he smirked at her after he caught her staring. She blushed but didn’t look away. Instead, she joined him by the door and asked again, “Who are you?”   
  
“Regulus Black, at your service,” he said as he took her hand, arching a brow at her surprised gasp. He didn’t give her a chance to say that he was supposed to dead or ask how he’d survived or any of the numerous other questions running through her mind at hearing his name. Instead, he led her out of the house and didn’t let go of her hand when he smiled at her. “Now let’s go before I decide that trying to be a good guy isn’t as important as hiding and being alive.”   
  
End


End file.
